


last summer at band camp

by stonerbughead



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, TW: discussion of misogynoir, TW: discussion of racism, TW: general misogyny, but mostly Melody fighting all of those things and being a general badass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27410137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerbughead/pseuds/stonerbughead
Summary: Despite its faults, after an inspiring and romantic summer away at music camp, Melody Valentine is more excited than ever to get back to work with the Pussycats. She just hopes Josie and Valerie will be as excited by her proposal as she is.One of my submissions to the Riverdale Pride & Joy Zine, posted now on AO3 in the name of better representation for our beloved underrepresented characters on the show and in fandom! A huge thanks to everyone who bought or sponsored or even just uplifted the zine; thanks to you we raised $$$ for the National Queer and Trans Therapists of Color Network!
Relationships: Melody Valentine/Munroe Moore
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	last summer at band camp

**Author's Note:**

> Speaking of which - keep fighting to defund (toward eventually abolishing) the police and fighting racial capitalism! Black Lives Matter.
> 
> Also, a huge shout out to all my fellow creators who collaborated on the zine from across the fandom, and to our fearless leaders, Sara and Tory!

Melody stands in front of her mirror, vacillating between keeping her hair down or gathering it in a ponytail. She opted for braids when her mom took her to the salon, knowing how hot the music room gets in September. Josie managed to pull some strings this year, signing up Valerie, Josie, and Melody for an independent study to do nothing but work on their music as a band.

After this summer, Melody is more excited than ever to get back to work with the Pussycats. She just hopes they’ll be as excited by her proposal as she is.

_Melody was truly stunned when Principal Weatherbee told her that she won a scholarship to an immersive music camp for six whole weeks. She’d always been jealous of Josie, who was constantly embarking on a new music-related adventure arranged by her father. Valerie has a songwriting teacher who mentors her year-round. Melody, on the other hand, usually spends her summers practicing in her garage by day and working concessions at the Bijou by night. She’d always dreamed of taking lessons with an actual drummer rather than just the overloaded school music teacher, but she knew her family could never afford it. This scholarship was her one shot._

_Her parents drove her two hours upstate, tears in her mother’s eyes when they pulled back from their farewell embrace. “Don’t waste this opportunity, Mel,” her mother reminded her gently, and Melody nodded resolutely as she responded, “You know I won’t.”_

_And she hadn’t. She connected immediately with the percussion teacher and her roommate, a kind violinist named Cynthia. Melody was having the time of her life, learning technique from someone who understood the drums so intimately, swimming and playing kickball and staying up late joking around with fellow teenage musicians._

_But, just like in Riverdale, there was always a dark side._

_At first, Melody couldn’t wait for the early afternoon, when they broke off into instrument-based focus groups. She couldn’t imagine anything better than having a designated time of day dedicated to nothing but playing the drums. That was before Melody realized she was the only drummer at camp who was_ not _a white dude. She’d unwittingly walked into a pre-formed clique that didn’t take kindly to outsiders._

_Melody learned a lot of things that summer: that teenage boys are sneaky when they want to be, good at keeping their jokes just-vague enough and out of earshot that the teacher never heard anything incriminating. She learned that some guys are just bonafide jerks, and that some are mostly complicit bystanders, too scared to stand up to the jerks. (She isn’t sure which type she hates more.)_

_But years of practicing alone in her garage prepared Melody for this. She spent so much extra time in the studio practicing that by the end of the summer she was undoubtedly the best drummer at camp. Mr. Blanco had them play a battle-style game to show off some techniques four weeks in, and Melody decisively won. When the other drummers started protesting_ — _one even going so far as to call for an immediate rematch_ — _Melody finally snapped._

 _“I know it’s hard for you to handle that a woman could be better than you at something, let alone a strong, proud Black woman,” she said, trying to keep her voice level and calm though she felt herself quaking. “But I am. And everything I have, I’ve earned. My family doesn’t have a lot. I’ve never had private drum lessons and never gotten to go to a music camp before like some of you. I’m here on a scholarship. And now that I_ am _finally here, I have to deal with all of you being mean to me when the teacher isn’t looking? I’ve had just about enough of the absolute misogynoir you have all been sending my way for the past month.” She breathed in deeply before adding, this time with more anger evident in her tone than before. “It must be hard to admit that someone you’re attracted to is actually better at playing the drums, but that’s the truth.”_

_Arms folded across her chest, she looked to Mr. Blanco, heart beating out of her chest as she realized that the things she ranted about to her friends Cynthia and Munroe had actually just come out of her mouth in the classroom._

_“How long has this been going on?” Mr. Blanco asked, looking angrily at the guilty-looking boys._

_He ended up dismissing Melody early, apologizing profusely to her in the hallway and saying he had “some lessons to teach the boys.” She doesn’t know what happened in the hour she missed, but for the next two weeks the other drummers were kinder. Most of them had egos too big to admit anything to her face beyond the perfunctory apology Mr. Blanco made them all give her the following afternoon. However, one did come up to her afterwards, apologizing with a sincerity that made Melody know he finally saw her as more than just a pretty face behind the drums._

_Besides, it wasn’t all bad. She made some other good friends outside the percussion cohort and realized she had a knack for songwriting in her elective class. Her elective class where she met Munroe Moore..._

Melody blushes as she thinks of her friend Munroe, who kissed her goodbye on the last day of camp. She hasn’t told her friends about him yet. Boys have always chased her; she was the first Pussycat to have her first kiss back in middle school. But Melody never really _cared_ about any of those boys before. 

Munroe was different. They became friends almost immediately, two of the only Black people in a sea of white faces. After eating just a couple meals together, she found out that they liked the same music, that Munroe played guitar _and_ football, which accounted for the absurd abs Melody tried hard not to stare at. The pair maintained a steady yet increasingly flirtatious friendship throughout the summer, even performing together at the open mic night on the penultimate night of camp. 

Then, as they were saying their goodbyes, he cupped her cheek and asked, “can I kiss you?” No one had ever asked Melody that before and she found herself answering the question with her lips. 

They’ve been texting nonstop since, exchanging memes and snippets of song lyrics. He always makes her giggle with bad music puns using her name. And he’s the one who convinced her to tell Valerie and Josie how she feels about the band, to propose some changes. 

“Your voice matters, Mel,” he said last time they talked on the phone.

Melody sighs as she hoists her backpack over her shoulder. Maybe it’s simply because she cares so much about Munroe that she’s avoiding telling her friends, scared to jinx the delicate beginnings of this new relationship by sharing it with other people. Besides, she has more important things to worry about than boys—like finally sharing what she learned at music camp with her best friends.

* * *

The bell for fifth period rings and Melody walks into the music room, her stomach a bundle of nerves. Her friends are already there; Josie pulling a folder out of her backpack and Valerie stooped over adjusting the keyboard. 

“Hey, Mel,” Valerie says absently without looking up. Josie wordlessly hands Melody a sheet of paper before walking over to adjust her microphone. 

Melody’s smile fades as she takes it in; they’ve already printed a setlist for the Battle of the Bands without asking her?

“What’s this?” she asks, trying to play dumb. Like the dynamic of their band hasn’t been like this since they first decided to call themselves _Josie_ and the Pussycats two years earlier.

“Our setlist for Battle of the Bands,” Valerie confirms. “We finalized it weeks ago.”

Melody bites her lip. “When I was still at camp?”

Josie shrugs. “I guess. So, what do you guys wanna rehearse first?”

Valerie starts to answer but Melody interrupts, “Actually, if you don’t mind, I had something to...propose before we get started.” 

Though they look a little confused, Josie motions for Melody to continue. 

She takes a deep breath and says, “I’ve been thinking about it since I got back from camp, and I’d really like to take a bigger creative role in the band this year.” Neither of them visibly react, which does nothing for Melody’s shaking hands and rapidly-beating heart, but she plows on: “I started songwriting over the summer, and I’d love to collaborate on something new, all three of us. And I’ve mastered a couple new covers that I’d love to add to our repertoire. Maybe we can learn one of them in time for the Battle of the Bands? I was thinking ‘Candy Girl.’”

Melody finally falls silent, thinking that she’s getting a little sick of having to deliver these epic, vulnerable monologues to rooms full of people who are supposed to be her colleagues. Both her friends look taken aback and unsure what to say. 

It’s Valerie who finally breaks the silence. “That’s really cool, Mel,” she says, too gently. “We should definitely all collaborate together on a new song this year.” Melody nods appreciatively toward her friend. 

They both turn toward Josie, the semi-official ( _though let’s be real_ , Melody thinks, _self-appointed_ ) bandleader. 

“Agreed, Valerie,” Josie says in her tone that always precedes letting someone down easy. Melody’s heart sinks. “And we can definitely think about incorporating your covers. But babe, Battle of the Bands is the weekend after next. We don’t have time to learn any new rep.” She laughs at that last part, a hand on her hip as she looks to Valerie for agreement. Valerie offers a nod and conspiratorial laugh. 

“Okay,” Melody says quietly, ashamed to hear defeat in her own voice. 

“So we table this discussion for now?” Josie asks, though it sounds more like a statement. She spreads out the setlist across her music stand. “Now, shall we start at the top?”

Dusting off the Riverdale High drumset after a summer of disuse, Melody is grateful her back is turned so Josie doesn’t see her eye-roll. “Sounds good,” she murmurs.

They begin rehearsing the aforementioned song—‘Star,’ one of Valerie’s originals—and Melody finds herself bored by material that was once challenging. A part of her is still dying to fight back. After her summer, it feels strange not to, like she’s betraying herself. (She has the quiet thought that she’s glad Munroe isn’t here to see this.)

* * *

Being friends with Veronica definitely has its perks: she always makes sure the Pussycats receive the best dressing room at La Bonne Nuit, which is hosting the Battle of the Bands. Melody sits in front of the salon-style lighting, fixing her makeup and grinning at the black dress she’d chosen for the occasion. Munroe had _definitely_ approved when she sent him a selfie with her drumsticks in hand. _That’s my girl. Rock on, Mel!_

“Melody! We’re on next!” Josie calls from the door. 

One last glance in the mirror, and Melody joins her friends in the wings, all giddy with pre-show energy.

The Pussycats go on toward the end of the line-up, but the crowd is still energized and eager. Melody smiles when she hears Cheryl and Toni screaming loudly in the corner, surrounded by Serpents and Bulldogs who came out to support. 

They play an amazing set—Valerie’s original, followed by their fan-favorite Donna Summer cover, ‘I Feel Love’—and receive a standing ovation. Melody is beaming by the end, almost forgetting why she was angry in the first place. She truly lives for the thrill of live performance. 

Melody is still flying high when they settle into the booth Veronica always reserves for the Pussycats. “I love music!” she gushes to her friends, who both laugh.

“Val, let’s grab three of those virgin mojitos Reggie makes so well,” Josie says, and they disappear into the crowd.

Just after they walk away, a couple guys Melody recognizes from the first band sidle up to the booth. She starts to put her defenses up, but then—“I promise I’m not hitting on you,” the first guy says, his voice kind. “I just _had_ to come by to say: you are an amazingly gifted drummer.” He offers his hand for a shake. “My name’s Nick. If you’re ever looking to collaborate.” 

He points to his bandmate, who reaches his hand out as well. “I’m Ambrose,” the second guy says, adding, “We’ve been looking for a new drummer for awhile actually.”

Melody blushes. “Oh, wow,” she responds, unsure what to say. “Thank you so much.”

She’s not used to the attention—sure, she’s watched other bands try to poach Valerie or Josie before at competitions like this—but never Melody. People don’t like women drummers; her summer away had just confirmed that for her. 

Like he can read her mind, Ambrose adds, “Anyway, sorry to bother you. I know how hard it is to be a woman instrumentalist. My girlfriend plays the sax.”

Melody nods quickly, feeling a little more at ease. “Ah, then you know the struggle of sexist musicians too well, then.”

“Unfortunately,” Nick says, dropping a card on the table before moving on. “This is our band information, if you ever want to work together.” 

Melody watches them walk away with a stunned smile, putting the card in her bag before Josie and Valerie can see. She feels weird even considering their offer.

She searches the crowd for Valerie and Josie, noticing they’ve stopped to talk to Betty and Jughead on their way back. Melody shrugs, opting to take the private time to text Munroe about how the set went—until she’s interrupted again, this time by an older patron who said she “loved seeing a strong woman behind the drums.”

“What a load of bullshit,” a drunk, masculine voice behind Melody grumbles when the woman walks away. She turns around, eyes narrowed, to find a middle-aged dude leering at her.

“Excuse me?” she says forcefully.

“Everything that bitch was saying is bullshit. Chicks can’t drum.” He snorts, taking a large sip of the drink in his hand.

Melody’s eyes darken as she tries to decide how exactly to put this asshole in his place, but before she can say anything, Josie and Valerie step in.

“Melody Valentine is the best drummer this side of Sweetwater River, sir,” Josie says sharply. “You’re just mad because you’re jealous.”

“Or maybe because she has looks _and_ talent, and you clearly have neither?” Valerie suggests. 

“Wow,” Melody starts to say as Reggie immediately steps in to escort the guy out. “I don’t know what to say.”

“ _We’re_ the ones with something to say,” Valerie insists. “We’re so sorry.”

“We’ve been such assholes,” Josie agrees. “We’re so sorry for not taking you seriously the other day in the music room.” They look like they both want to say more, but then Kevin, who’s playing emcee, yells into the mic: “Time to announce the winners!” 

Melody, Valerie, and Josie turn to each other, and like it’s any other competition, they lock hands as the third and second-place winners are announced one after the other. 

Kevin beams as he looks up from the index card in his hand. “And in first place, for the third year in a row, the indomitable Josie and the Pussycats!”

The three friends stand up, throwing their arms around each other before running up to the stage to accept their trophy. 

“Melody,” Josie hisses as she embraces Kevin. “Play ‘Candy Girl.’ We’ll catch up.” Valerie nods in agreement from the keyboard, ready to play the traditional encore. 

“Okay,” Melody says, hands shaking as she makes her way to the drumset. She counts them in, practically holding her breath. _1, 2, 3,_ and they’re off.

Josie and Valerie riff along, and Melody loses herself in the rhythm, barely registering that the crowd has gotten to their feet, dancing and cheering for them. The three friends embrace as they finish the song to another roaring round of applause, and Melody feels like she could cry. 

By the time they finally return to their booth after receiving praise from nearly everyone in La Bonne Nuit, Melody is exhausted.

“To expand on what we were saying earlier--” Josie starts but Melody puts her hand up.

“I’m too tired for more apologies right now,” she says with a laugh. “I forgive you, I promise.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Josie concedes. “But Valerie and I talked about it earlier, and we agree: our band is a democracy going forward. All three of us make decisions together.” She smiles at Valerie and Melody. “I love you guys.”

“Aww,” Melody says. “I love you too.”

“Shall we have a toast?” Valerie suggests, looking around for a waiter, when Melody’s phone buzzes loudly on the table. 

Munroe’s name fills the screen before Melody can stop it, undoubtedly a response to the cell phone video she’d sent him of their encore performance.

“Hold up a minute, bitch,” Josie says, staring at his contact photo. “Who is ‘ _Munroe Moore_ , _heart emoji_?’”

“ _Ooooooooh!_ ” Valerie shrieks.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Melody gets up, her face warm. “I’ll find Reggie. We definitely need another round for this conversation.” 

**Author's Note:**

> As y’all can tell, both my role as resident union maid/leftist of the Bughead fandom and the momentum of the summer’s protests against policing hugely influenced both the stories I chose to write for the Pride and Joy Zine. Keep staying plugged in to the Movement for Black Lives as we continue the fight to defund and eventually abolish the police!
> 
> (the scholarship part is partially inspired by my own two-week writing camp i got to attend in high school bc i won a scholarship from my high school's english dept!)
> 
> and thanks to Janet (easyluckyfree45) for the beta help!
> 
> stay safe, loves!  
> Maria


End file.
